


More Than Enough

by peachgrove



Series: The Epilepsy Diaries [10]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, Dissociation, Epilepsy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neurological Disorders, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protectiveness, Seizures, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24786346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachgrove/pseuds/peachgrove
Summary: Timmy eyes are sad and confused when Armie asks him, “You spaced out a bit there. Where’d you go?”He already knows the answer. Timmy went to a place where nothing around him exists. Where he’s detached from his body. Where the world’s reality is no longer his because he refuses to be aware of it. But he still asks anyway, knowing he needs to ask grounding questions to bring him back.orJust over a year into their relationship, Armie realizes the troubles they'll encounter sexually along the way. But it's something he's willing to adjust to.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: The Epilepsy Diaries [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723651
Comments: 16
Kudos: 107





	More Than Enough

The first time, or perhaps times, that Armie realizes that being in a relationship with Timmy is going to involve bumps in the road is just over a year into their relationship.

It’s like any typical night. Timmy, who has recently moved into Armie’s apartment, is snuggled against the older’s chest as they lay tucked under a blanket and sprawled out across the lounger portion of the couch. The boy is pressed between Armie and the couch, his face just barely peeking over the blanket to see the movie they’re watching.

Armie looks down at Timmy somewhere closer to midnight and just admires him. The way his eyelids lay heavy under exhaustion. The way he pulls the blanket up to his nose. The way his lashes flutter over freckled cheeks.

Armie reaches out to touch his cheek, wondering how he got so lucky. Timmy’s eyes flash up to him in surprise, blush finally creeping across his face when he realizes that Armie is staring at him, and very intently at that.

“What?” Timmy mutters, embarrassed.

Something in Armie has him shaking his head, smiling stupidly down at his boyfriend. “You’re just so pretty.”

Unable to blush any further, Timmy immediately turns into Armie’s chest, effectively hiding his face. “Stop,” he whines, grabbing the hem of Armie’s shirt under the blanket. His ghostly touch along Armie’s lower abs sends shockwaves through the older’s entire body.

“You know it,” Armie chuckles as he buries a hand in Timmy’s curls, holding him in place.

“No,” Timmy denies.

“You do,” Armie laughs. “You have to know you’re pretty.”

Timmy blindly reaches a hand out from the blanket and flicks Armie’s ear. “You’re so annoying,” he complains, but Armie can hear the smile on his face.

“You love me, though,” Armie counters. 

Timmy pulls his face back then, looking up at Armie with glistening eyes. Armie feels he’ll never be able to truly explore the depth of them, for they’re too otherworldly. Too beautiful to comprehend. And then Timmy is fluttering his eyelashes and saying, “Debatable.”

Armie watches that stupid grin on his face before he just can’t take it anymore. 

“Oh, yeah?” Armie challenges as he swiftly changes their position, pinning Timmy under his body. Timmy yelps in surprise but instantly wraps his arms around Armie’s neck, pulling him closer, wrapping his legs around Armie’s waist. “Wanna bet?” Armie asks against Timmy’s ear as he feels the boy growing hard against his hip.

“Armie, I’m tired,” Timmy whines, but his body, gripping Armie in desperation, begging for more, betrays him.

Armie presses his mouth against Timmy’s, licking past his lips straight away. Timmy sighs into his mouth, the feeling of his lips just as seering as the first time they kissed. Just as fucking good. And Armie can’t get enough, so he slides a hand up Timmy’s clothed chest. Once. Twice. And then he’s slipping his hand under the fabric and touching the bareskin of his torso.

“Armie…” Timmy says against Armie’s lips, arching his back up to reach his touch.

Armie breaks the kiss and starts kissing and nipping at Timmy’s neck, loving the way the boy’s breath catches in his throat. The way the arms he has wrapped around Armie’s neck pull him in closer.

“Come on, baby,” Armie murmurs against his sensitive skin. “Just a quickie.”

And then Armie’s licking that spot just under Timmy’s earlobe and Timmy is keening. “Yeah,” he says breathlessly, frantically nodding. “Okay…”

So Armie takes this consent and runs with it. He wastes no time in shoving his hand down Timmy’s pants and working his hand over his cock. Timmy moans under him, seeming to involuntarily buck into Armie’s hand, chasing the friction there. 

“Yeah?” Armie asks again, just to be sure. He bites at Timmy’s jaw as he waits for a response.

“Yeah,” Timmy grunts, arching his back again.

Armie sucks a bruise into the dip of Timmy’s collarbone. Timmy writhes underneath him, already so aroused. Maybe this quickie will be even quicker than Armie thought. Armie grips Timmy’s hips in both hands, moaning without shame when he feels Timmy’s ass slide down and rub his erection.

The urge to pull Timmy’s shorts off is overwhelming, so Armie does exactly that. He discards them somewhere on the ground next to the couch and busies himself by wrapping his hands around Timmy’s legs, fingertips grazing his inner thighs. 

He doesn’t have to worry about opening Timmy up that much, being that they just fucked a few hours ago in the shower. Yes, they fuck a lot, but can anyone blame them? They’re young and they’re new and everything the other does is hot. So yes, they fuck a lot. Armie brings a finger down to feel out Timmy’s hole, kissing up the boy’s neck as he does so.

But it all seems to happen in an instant. One minute Timmy’s whimpering under him, begging Armie to touch him, scratching the skin of his upper back, and the next he’s gone quiet. Concerningly quiet, in fact. And not only is he quiet, but he’s no longer moving.

Armie frowns against the skin of Timmy’s neck and pulls back in confusion. “Timmy?”

When Armie’s gaze meets Timmy’s face, his heart sinks, because he knows exactly what’s going on, and he hates being the cause of it. He’s seen that spaced out look on Timmy’s face on more than one occasion. The boy is nothing but a pliant body under him, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling, a battle clearly happening within his head.

Timmy’s dissociating.

“Fuck,” Armie whispers to himself as he notices. He doesn’t move though, not wanting to trigger this behavior any further. He simply brings a hand up to Timmy’s curls and starts massaging his scalp in the hopes of bringing him back.

He’s seen this happen before. Dissociation is one of the many post-traumatic symptoms that Timmy’s ex-boyfriend Luke left him with. Anything that makes the boy anxious or reminds him of the torment Luke put him through can cause him to dissociate, meaning he’s essentially unconscious to the world. His brain deems it logical to dissociate from his surroundings in order to avoid the pain that comes from them. 

Armie remembers the first time Timmy got like this. It was their first Christmas together, and Timmy had accidentally dropped an ornament on Armie’s hardwood floor, causing the glass to shatter into a bunch of tiny pieces. At the time, Armie had laughed it off, getting a broom and saying, “That’s one down.” But it wasn’t until he returned to the room that he realized Timmy had become unresponsive and spaced out.

When Timmy finally came too several minutes later, he explained the phenomenon to Armie, who assumed Timmy reacted that way because he thought Armie was going to hurt him for making a mess and breaking something.

It’s fucked up and so, so sad. But there’s not much Armie can do about it. He has no choice but to talk to Timmy and try to bring him out of it.

“Hey,” Armie says as he makes Timmy face him, using the hand that’s buried in the boy’s curls at the back of his head. “Timmy, it’s okay.”

Timmy’s eyes meet his, but there’s nothing behind them. He looks almost through Armie, the definition of the lights being on and no one being home.

“Sweetheart,” Armie says, as gently as he possibly can. “You’re okay, alright? You’re safe.”

Timmy does nothing but blink at him. Armie can’t help but think of how similar this behavior is to when Timmy leaves a seizure. Hardly conscious, incredibly confused, unmoving. He’s almost not present. Armie hates that this lack of consciousness is ever present in their lives, in more ways than one.

Armie leans down and presses a sweet kiss to Timmy’s cheek. Knowing Luke never did anything this tender. Knowing Timmy will associate the touch with safety. With Armie.

“I love you,” Armie says, as a matter of factly. Timmy’s eyes stare down at Armie’s chest. “I love you so much.”

He comes back slowly, quite the opposite of how he falls in. Armie feels a little relief when he feels Timmy’s fingertips start to rub the skin on the back of his neck. It’s stimulation, Timmy’s body’s way of bringing his mind back to earth.

“You know I love you,” Armie whispers, dipping down to kiss Timmy’s temples, then all the way down the side of his face. “Don’t you?”

Timmy sighs heavily, but his eyes are still so far gone. His fingertips graze Armie’s neck repeatedly. Up and down and up and down.

“You’re safe,” Armie promises into Timmy’s ear. “You know I’ll always keep you safe. I wouldn’t let anything hurt you. Ever.”

After a few minutes of soft assurances and loving touches, Armie finally feels Timmy shift beneath him, almost like he’s been risen from a spell. The boy makes a small sound in the back of his throat, tightening his legs around Armie’s hips, and in seconds, Armie’s pulling back to look him over.

Timmy eyes are sad and confused when Armie asks him, “You spaced out a bit there. Where’d you go?”

He already knows the answer. Timmy went to a place where nothing around him exists. Where he’s detached from his body. Where the world’s reality is no longer his because he refuses to be aware of it. But he still asks anyway, knowing he needs to ask grounding questions to bring him back.

Timmy’s glossy eyes blink up at Armie, a frown on his face. “I don’t know,” Timmy mumbles.

Armie tries again, a little simpler this time. “Tell me where you are,” he says.

He gives Timmy a few seconds to look around the room and take in his surroundings. He watches as Timmy's eyes slowly understand the world around him, causing him to rub the older’s neck again. 

Sometimes, Timmy tells him that he thinks he’s back with Luke. That sometimes he thinks he’s back in Luke’s apartment. That Luke’s fist will be colliding with his face any second now. That he’s right back where he was just a few years ago. Rock fucking bottom. Armie wonders if this was one of those times.

Timmy swallows before speaking. “Home,” he mumbles. Armie’s heart jumps at that. He knows it’s corny to get so excited about Timmy referring to his apartment as home, but Timmy just moved in. This is all still fresh to him.

“Mhm,” Armie confirms as he kisses Timmy’s cheek. He rubs Timmy’s side with the free hand that’s not in his hair. “That’s right. And what are you doing right now?”

Timmy thinks for another second. “I’m...with you. On the couch,” he mutters. He looks down between their bodies and probably notices that he’s naked from the waist down because he then says, “Were we having sex?”

Armie looks down too, feeling like he’s been caught red handed, despite the fact that Timmy had given him consent and the dissociation seemed to spawn from nowhere. They’ve both grown soft throughout the ordeal. “We were about to, yeah,” Armie confirms as he caresses the sides of Timmy’s face.

Timmy nods at this information. “And I...Did I…?”

“You dissociated for a second,” Armie informs. “You weren’t gone long, though. You’re okay.”

Timmy’s face suddenly turns from confused to troubled. “Oh...I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby,” Armie denies, shaking his head. 

He then becomes hyper aware of Timmy’s bareskin against his own and realizes that this is probably the last position Timmy wants to be in right now, considering he just dissociated because of it. He should probably get Timmy in the bed, let him sleep off his exhaustion.

“Do you want to put your pants back on and go to bed?” he asks gently.

Timmy’s face flushes. He looks embarrassed to agree, but he eventually nods his head.

“Okay,” Armie says, kissing the boy’s freckled face again. “It’s okay.”

Armie sits up fully and grabs Timmy’s underwear from the floor. He helps the boy put them back on, all while Timmy’s face is outrageously red with shame. He refuses to meet Armie’s eye, most likely in fear of what Armie will say. But Armie has nothing to say. Because Timmy can’t help this. He didn’t choose to be this way. He didn’t choose to be affected by his ex-boyfriend’s abuse.

Once Timmy is fully dressed, Armie throws the blanket off of them and stands from the couch. He reaches his hands out to help Timmy, who still avoids his gaze. He pulls the boy to his feet and soon they’re both shuffling towards Armie’s--their--bedroom.

Armie puts Timmy in the bed and goes to the bathroom to piss, wash his face, and brush his teeth. By the time he comes out of the bathroom, he’s met with Timmy sitting straight up, staring at him.

“I thought you were going to sleep,” Armie sighs as he slips under the covers.

Timmy, unsurprisingly, snuggles his face into Armie’s chest, sticking his cold toes under Armie’s calves. “Was waiting for you,” he finally murmurs into the older’s shirt.

“Well, I’m here now,” Armie says as he runs a hand up and down Timmy’s long spine. “Get some sleep, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Timmy then blurts. He grips Armie’s hip like it’s the only thing tying him to the bed. “For earlier. It...It really wasn’t you. I swear. I don’t want you to feel...guilty or anything.”

Armie waits for a beat, just long enough for him to squash any guilt he’s feeling for Timmy’s episode earlier. “I know that,” he confirms. “It just happens sometimes.”

“I think...it happened because I was tired,” Timmy mumbles. He’s difficult to hear when he’s hiding his face, but Armie knows this is easier for him that way, so he lets him. “He would… When I was…”

Timmy doesn’t even have to finish that sentence because Armie already knows what he means. Luke would force himself on Timmy when the boy was weak. When he was vulnerable. When he was fragile. And that feeling, the feeling of tiredness, exhaustion, made all those memories come flooding back, causing him to clock out. A vicious cycle that may never find its end.

“I know, baby,” Armie tells him. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m not mad at you or anything. You know that, right?”

Timmy hesitates before he nods. “Yeah.”

“At least we know now,” Armie offers, trying to see the plus side in this. “We know not to risk it when you’re tired.”

Timmy, again, is reluctant to respond. Like he doesn’t believe Armie’s words or doesn’t want to believe them. “I guess…”

Armie hugs Timmy against him, swimming in the way their bodies mold together like they’re meant to be. “It’s okay, Timmy. I promise. Get some sleep, alright?”

Timmy nods. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

And eventually, they’re both sound asleep.

  
  


\--

  
  


Armie wakes up the next morning to weight on his hips.

“Tim?” are the first words from his lips. 

His eyes are still closed as he feels cold, slim hands slide over his shoulders, a smooth chest pressed to his own, and warm lips buried in his neck. Then he feels those soft curls tickling the side of his face, and he knows. Timmy. 

“Fuck,” Armie groans as the culprit grinds down onto his morning wood, their own erection pressing against his hip. Eyes still closed, he blindly reaches out and grabs Timmy’s waist in both hands, squeezing the flesh there as the boy nips at his skin.

“Armie…” Timmy says back as he slides his hands over Armie’s sides, subtle, barely there. It makes Armie shiver.

Armie finally opens his eyes and finds that Timmy has indeed straddled him. He slides his hands down from Timmy’s waist to his ass, gripping it hard. He could stay like this for years on end, just woken from a slumber and immediately having Timmy everywhere. All over. Every inch of his skin. He could just drown in it all.

He brings a hand back up and starts pushing it past the hem of Timmy’s briefs at his lower back. Timmy whimpers and pulls his face back to press his lips against Armie’s. Armie’s mouth chases him hungrily, ready to devour him, but the boy stops him by grabbing his hand by the wrist.

“I’m ready. I’m ready,” Timmy breathlessly promises before he gives Armie a kiss. He looks totally blissed out like this. His eyes are dazed and blown, his curls falling into his face. 

“Are you sure?” Armie asks, kissing the corner of Timmy’s mouth. The overwhelming urge for touch has him gripping Timmy’s hips again, pushing him down and making him gasp from the sensation.

“I’m sure, yeah,” Timmy pants as he starts taking his boxers off. “Did it earlier. Just...I need you now.”

Armie won’t argue with that. He helps Timmy out of his briefs and then starts to remove his own. Timmy lifts his ass a little so Armie can pull them down, past his knees, and then over the side of the bed to be forgotten about. He grabs the lube on his nightstand from their previous days of pleasure and coats himself generously. He puts some on his middle finger and cover’s Timmy’s hole too, slipping it past the ring of muscle just to be sure Timmy was right. Just to make sure he’s ready. Timmy moans.

“Armie, please,” Timmy whines from above him, his palms pressed flat against Armie’s pecs.

Armie looks down at Timmy’s erection and sees that it’s gone down a bit. Nothing extremely out of the ordinary, but nonetheless, he brings his already lubed hand to his cock and gives him a few tugs to bring him back a bit. It begins to swell again, so Armie urges him on.

“Okay,” Armie sighs eagerly. 

Timmy lifts himself onto his knees a bit then. He reaches behind himself to grab Armie and line him up with his entrance. Armie can’t believe how insanely beautiful he is like this. His lip red, bitten, raw. His curls swaying. His torso flexing as he maneuvers himself. He groans simply at the sight of him.

It’s then that Timmy starts to push Armie into his hole, sinking down on the man’s dick at an agonizing pace. His eyes squeeze shut and his mouth falls open with many things. Concentration, pain, pleasure. Timmy releases pinched out, small moans, and Armie rubs his thighs up and down to soothe him.

“That’s good, Timmy,” Armie praises as Timmy sinks down further. He’s not small by any means, so even when Timmy is prepared, it’s still an extensive feat. “So good…”

When Timmy finally sinks all the way down, his ass meeting Armie’s hips, they both let out a satisfied moan. And, fuck, Timmy’s so fucking tight, just like he always is. He’ll never get tired of the pressure that comes with pushing into him.

Armie looks down again and sees that Timmy’s once again losing his hard on, so he decides to do some of the work to give Timmy a break.

“Come here,” Armie says as he lets go of Timmy’s thighs and holds his arms out in an offering. Timmy instantly complies, falling forward until their chests are flush together. He brackets his arms on either side of Armie’s head, panting directly into his ear. It’s so fucking erotic.

Armie then reaches down and grabs each of Timmy’s ass cheeks in his hands, spreading them apart and beginning to move. He pulls out just a bit before pushing right back in, slowly opening Timmy up. The younger whimpers every time he slides into him, but is soon ready to take initiative himself.

“Fuck,” Timmy groans deeply as he sits up. Armie rubs his thighs again, looking up at the boy and marveling in his lure. Timmy in return rests his hands on Armie’s chest again, balancing himself as he starts to move.

Timmy starts rocking back and forth, throwing his head back and moaning at the feeling of Armie filling him up. Armie groans himself, gripping Timmy’s skin so hard that he's sure it’ll bruise, but he knows Timmy likes it that way. He likes to be marked by his lover.

“Yeah,” Timmy whines as he looks back at Armie and starts picking up pace, quickly getting carried away. His now fully hard cock bobs against his tummy, making an incredibly hot slapping noise. “Armie… Fuck, yeah.”

“That good, baby?” Armie asks, beginning to bring his hips up to meet Timmy’s. It rips a gasp out of Timmy every time, the older surely hitting just the right spot.

“Mhm!” Timmy cries with his eyes squeezed shut, his head falling back again. “Fuck…”

Timmy bounces a bit before becoming tired and leaning back on his hands, holding his ass up for Armie to fuck into. And that, Armie does. He grips Timmy’s thighs, just above his knees and starts pounding into him relentlessly. Timmy moans even louder, loud enough for their neighbors to hear, as his arms start to tremble under the weight of himself and the force of Armie’s thrusts.

And this is all so damn hot. So unbelievable that Armie starts to think it’s a dream. Who else is as lucky as him? Lucky enough to wake up to this first thing in the morning?

“Shit, Tim. You’re so fucking tight,” Armie grits out.

Timmy whimpers.

Armie then abruptly reaches forward and grabs Timmy’s shoulders, pulling him up again before making him turn around and face the other way. Timmy pants as Armie slips out of him so he can reposition himself with his back pressed against Armie’s chest. He wraps his legs on either side of Armie’s knees, reaching behind him to grab Armie’s hair with both hands and a tight sigh as Armie slips back in.

“Fuck!” Timmy pants as Armie starts moving again.

Armie hooks his chin over Timmy’s shoulder and pants himself, large hands wrapping around Timmy’s small, pale thighs, spreading him apart more. Lifting him up so he can pound into him further. He feels himself losing his control to the delicious sight alone, and Timmy’s desperate cries aren’t helping.

“Oh shit,” Armie says breathlessly into Timmy’s shoulder. “Holy fuck, baby. I’m gonna come.”

Timmy just groans in response, pulling the strands of Armie’s hair that’s tangled between his fingers. Armie reaches down to give attention to his cock too, grabbing the boy’s length in his hand. He finds that, once again, it’s hard but perhaps not...fully erect. It’s confusing because...this has never happened before. 

Timmy’s never been this far from orgasm himself while Armie was so close. Was Armie being a horny teenager? No, he doesn’t think so. Was Timmy not enjoying this? Can’t be. He initiated it. He begged for it even. Hell, he’s enjoying it right now.

Either way, he doesn’t have much time to think about it, because as soon as he touches Timmy, the boy is clenching around him and sending him over the edge. Armie shoots into Timmy’s ass with a silent moan, trembling all over as he rides out his orgasm.

“Fuck, Timmy,” Armie gasps as he comes down, stars lining the edges of his vision.

After a few long seconds, Armie finally catches his breath and suddenly remembers Timmy’s dick in his palm. He’s fallen concerningly soft at this point, so he’s quick to start jerking him off again. 

But...something’s not right. Armie’s never been so lost during intercorse with Timmy before. He finds that even as he tugs Timmy more, runs a thumb over his slit, twists his hand going up, the boy doesn’t grow much harder. His erection stays in this weird limbo state where it’s not quite soft, but it’s not erect either. It’s confusing, Armie having never had trouble turning Timmy on during sex before.

Timmy seems to recognize this too because he turns to press his face into Armie’s neck, hiding. He’s embarrassed, that much is true, but Armie doesn’t know what else he can do but keep trying.

And it’s incredibly awkward, a silent tension forming between the two that had never been there before. An unspoken state of discomfort with the situation that neither of them have the guts to voice in fear of what it might mean. Never once have either of them walked away from sex without both finishing. And sure, while one partner not finishing isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’s still a foreign thing for the two. A new territory that is anything but exciting to discover.

Eventually, Armie starts to awkwardly slow his hand, feeling he’s probably causing more overstimulation than pleasure to Timmy’s length. He decides he’ll have to be the one to speak first, knowing Timmy is far too mortified to voice a thing. If it were up to him, he’d probably let Armie try to get him off for hours just to avoid the conversation they’re about to have.

“Timmy?” Armie asks as he finally pulls his hand away.

“Hm?” Timmy hums into the side of his face.

Armie licks his lips, swallows a lump. Stalling. “I don’t think… I don’t think you’re gonna finish, baby. It’s...not…” 

And he can’t even finish. Because this isn’t the type of conversation year old couples have, especially after just moving in together. Normal couples would be talking about quite the opposite, setting boundaries for how many times they fuck just for the neighbors’ sake.

A few agonizing seconds later and Timmy finally mumbles, “I know…”

But Armie doesn’t know what to do with that. How does he move on? What does he say? What is there to say? He doesn’t even know what’s truly happening.

“I’m… Is everything...okay?” Armie asks, perplexed.

Timmy then hastily pulls Armie out of himself with a hiss, rolls over, and sits on the edge of the bed, legs hanging over the side. Armie’s not sure what’s worse: the tension in the room or the fact that he doesn’t know if he should reach out and touch the boy or not.

“Armie, it’s…” Timmy’s head then dips down. His back is facing Armie, and Armie wishes so much that it wasn’t. “It’s not you, Arms. I promise. It’s just…”

Armie feels a little better knowing he’s not the cause of this. He carefully scoots across the bed up behind Timmy. He thinks about wrapping his arms around him from behind, but ultimately decides against it. He senses that Timmy needs some space right now. To think. To speak.

“It’s okay, Timmy. You don’t have to be...embarrassed or--”

“I’m not,” Timmy cuts him off. “I’m not...embarrassed.”

Armie wants to touch him so badly. The longer he sits here with no explanation, the more he feels guilty about finishing himself. “It’s okay if you are. I’m just saying you don’t have to be.”

“I’m…” Timmy starts, and it sounds scarily uneven. His voice wobbles between steadiness and utter loss of control. “Okay, yeah. I’m...embarrassed. But I’m also just...frustrated.”

Armie frowns, feeling his heart sink. Did he really do something wrong here? Was he the reason Timmy couldn’t keep his erection? Did he push him too far, remind him of his past? He swallows, scared for an answer. “Are you frustrated with me?”

Timmy shakes his head instantly, seeming disgusted by that inclination. He drops his chin to his chest before saying, “No. No, of course not.”

“Then…” Armie urges. It’s more of a question than anything.

Timmy brings his hands up and rubs his eyes, hard. He’s clearly overwhelmed, not sure how to word this all properly. Armie thinks about telling him to just forget about it. Tell him that they can worry about it later, but then Timmy speaks. “Zoloft…”

Armie freezes. What?

“Zoloft?” he repeats in confusion.

Timmy nods from behind his hands. “It’s...what I take for...the PTSD.”

Armie stops to think. Yeah, he remembers. He was the one that convinced Timmy to finally take his baggage to therapy in the first place, try and work something out. And yes, he knows that Timmy is on an SSRI for his PTSD, but he didn’t know the name off the top of his head. Give him a break. They’ve only been together for a little over a year and Timmy is on a lot of medication. It’s a lot to learn.

But once Timmy explains, it clicks, and Armie nods. “Yeah, what about it?” he asks gently.

Timmy slams his hands back into his lap angrily and shakes his head. “They said it could happen, I just...I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t think it could happen...to me.”

And, what? Armie is so fucking confused. Is Timmy not making sense or is he just a bad boyfriend? God, the language Timmy’s using sounds so scary. Is he sick? More sick than he already was? What’s happening?

“I don’t understand,” Armie says honestly. “Who said what? What are we even talking about here?”

Timmy shakes his head again, like he can’t believe Armie doesn’t understand. But how can he? When Timmy’s being so cryptic?

“The doctors, Armie. My…” Timmy stops to catch his breath, which has quickly grown short. “My psychiatrist. She said that… There’s some side effects to Zoloft that aren’t exactly...appealing. I guess I was just hoping that wouldn’t apply to me.”

Armie frowns again. He hates staring at Timmy’s back while they talk about this. He wants to see Timmy’s face, try to understand his emotions, but he knows that Timmy on the other hand would very much hate it that way.

Armie chances a scoot even closer, presses his lips to Timmy’s shoulder blade. He tries to mask his hurt when the boy shys away. “What side effects?” he whispers.

“Just...stuff.” Timmy then sniffles, wiping at his nose. Armie has no way of knowing if he’s crying, because he’s absolutely refusing to show Armie his face, but Armie has a good idea.

“Stuff like what, Timmy?” Armie asks, patient.

The next words seem to fall out of Timmy before he can catch them.

“Erectile dysfunction,” Timmy blurts. 

Armie doesn’t move. What does that mean? Timmy can’t get hard? Timmy can’t stay hard? Timmy can’t orgasm? All of the above?

It’s not that he’s shocked or disgusted or put off by this information, it’s just that he had no idea. Timmy never talked to him about this stuff. He doesn’t know what comes along with taking antidepressants, and apparently, Timmy didn’t want to inform him either. So, he’s kinda being thrown in the deep end here.

The hesitation in Armie’s response seems to rile Timmy up, because he’s soon standing from the bed and pacing the room, still refusing to look Armie in the eye. Armie watches him walk back and forth.

When he realizes how concerningly quiet he’s been, he tries to reassure Timmy. “Well…” he starts, not sure where to go. “That’s okay, Timmy. It doesn’t...change anything--”

“No, it’s not fucking okay, Armie,” Timmy argues, continuing to pace.

“But it is,” Armie insists. He untangles himself from the bedsheets and stands, reluctant to reach out and touch the flustered boy who does laps in front of him. “It’s fine, Timmy. It’s not a big deal--”

“Don’t tell me it’s not a big fucking deal!” Timmy says sternly, suddenly turning to face Armie. The older doesn’t miss the redness of his face, the glistening in his eyes. “It is. It is a big deal. It’s a huge fucking deal to me!” Timmy just about shouts, more tears gathering in his eyes.

Armie stops defending him then. He stops telling him that it’s not a big deal because, really, it’s not his place. He has no right to tell him what’s okay and what’s not when he’s not the one affected. And sure, while Timmy being unable to maintain an erection might make Armie feel guilty or upset, it’s nothing compared to what Timmy must feel; shame, mortification, disappointment. It’s not fair.

“Tim, I…” Armie says, holding his arms out uselessly. Because Timmy doesn’t fill them. Because Timmy doesn’t want, nor need his affection right now. Knowing the boy, he’s probably feeling disgusted with himself.

Timmy shakes his head again, looking away and wiping the big fat tears from his eyes. “You don’t know, Armie. You never know…” he whispers, likely not confident in his voice.

Armie’s heart hurts at those words. Not because Timmy’s words were harmful or sinister in any way, but mainly because he’s so fucking right. Armie doesn’t know, and may never will.

Before Armie can speak any more empty promises, Timmy turns away and starts walking to the bathroom.

“I’m taking a shower,” he says. It’s final. It’s sure. And it’s definitely uninviting.

So Armie doesn’t follow.

  
  


\--

  
  


They don’t talk about it for the next two days. 

Every time that Armie tries to bring it up, Timmy either warns him with a simple, “Armie,” or he gets on his phone and responds with nothing but short answers. He even gets up and leaves the room at one point when Armie, admittedly, wouldn’t let up.

Armie does his own research on Zoloft and its side effects during that time, knowing Timmy isn’t going to give him much. He gets an understanding of the topics on his own, but it doesn’t satisfy his need to talk this out personally with Timmy. They need to discuss it. How it will work when it happens again. What they will do. But Timmy refuses. It’s insanely frustrating, but Armie can’t think of a way to get him to talk.

On the night of the two days since the incident, Timmy does something that Armie isn’t expecting.

They’re both in the shower, cleaning themselves in silence, neither of them doing much to acknowledge the other parents. Like Armie said, they’re a new couple. They’re used to fucking, a lot. But these past few days, Timmy hasn’t touched Armie, and Armie didn’t want to push him, so they didn’t have sex. 

But out of nowhere, while Armie is facing the showerhead and letting the scorching water run over his face, Timmy slips up behind him and wraps his arms around Armie’s waist.

Armie freezes a bit, the show of affection already foreign to him even just after two days. He doesn’t want to move and ruin this, so he waits for Timmy to speak. But Timmy never does. Instead, he slides his hand down Armie’s torso and grabs his limp cock in his hand, giving him a firm squeeze.

Armie embarrassingly gasps and jumps a bit, to which Timmy responds by laughing into Armie’s wet back.

“What are you doin’?” Armie asks, already feeling himself grow as Timmy palms him under the hot spray.

“Wanna suck you off,” Timmy says, surprisingly confident.

There’s no hesitation with this offer. Armie immediately turns around to find Timmy grinning at him. He grabs the boy’s throat in both hands and pushes him back until his back hits the opposing wall (which is far, considering showers in NYC apartments are nothing more than a few feet long at best). Timmy laughs and crashes his mouth against Armie’s, reaching between them both to grip Armie again.

“You little shit,” Armie sighs into Timmy’s mouth.

Timmy moans in return.

The hot water continues to pound on Armie’s back as he starts kissing down the side of Timmy’s throat. He pulls sighs from him with every kiss, but out of nowhere, as it always seems to be, Timmy’s pleased hums turn into groans and whimpers.

Armie pulls back instantly and looks at Timmy. He finds his eyes screwed shut, a grimace on his face.

“Timmy, you okay?” Armie asks.

Timmy shakes his head, dropping his neck until his forehead meets Armie’s shoulders. Armie feels him start to slip down the wall, so he gets his hands under his armpits and holds him up.

“Whoa, whoa. Hey,” Armie says, slightly panicked.

“Dizzy,” Timmy slurs. Fuck, he’s slurring.

Deep down, Armie knows what’s about to happen. Timmy’s going to have a seizure. The severity of it is unknown. It could be a complex partial for all he knows. But what he does know is that it’s inevitable and he knows that there’s no way to stop it. And that’s fucking scary.

“You’re dizzy, baby?” Armie asks calmly, trying to make sure he doesn’t cause Timmy to panic. He smoothly reaches behind him and turns the water off, the eerie silence that follows thickening the tension in the room.

“Mhm,” Timmy mumbles with a nod.

“Okay, let’s lay you down, then. Come on,” Armie says as he pushes open the glass door of the shower.

“Why?” Timmy asks, already sounding so gone. It’s difficult for Armie to understand how seconds ago, Timmy was making advances on him, talking about sucking him off. And now, he’s confused and so, so lost, slowly losing his control to the hands of his epilepsy.

Armie tries to quietly explain. “Because you’re not feeling well. And I need to lay you down to help you.”

Armie brings them both out of the shower then, Timmy stumbling over the little step before he, or rather Armie, steadies him on the bathroom floor. He then lowers the two until he’s crouched down and Timmy is laying down, curled into a ball. He becomes aware of just how cold it is, considering they’re soaking wet, when Timmy shivers against the floor.

“Armie…?” Timmy slurs as he lethargically looks up at the older. His eyes wander, unable to focus on his boyfriend.

A pang in Armie’s heart has him swallowing his anxiety, reaching out to touch Timmy’s face. He runs a hand over his cheek and through his sopping, wet curls before he speaks. “I’m sorry, honey,” he apologizes. “I think you’re gonna go.”

At this point, Timmy can’t form words. He does nothing but shake against the tiles and turn his face towards Armie’s hand, seeking comfort. It’s so hard, watching him fall into the seizure slowly like this. In times like these, Armie’s grateful that he has time to react before Timmy starts up, but he still hates watching him lose consciousness bit by bit.

“I’m not gonna leave you, though,” Armie promises. He leans down and presses a kiss to Timmy’s forehead while he still can. He then grabs a towel from the rack and cushions it under the boy’s head. “I’ll be right here, okay? I won’t leave.”

Timmy, obviously, doesn’t respond.

Armie frantically does a quick check of the bathroom to make sure that Timmy won’t hit anything while he spasms. There’s not much room in the space to begin with, but Armie knows that moving him out into the bedroom this far into the seizure is more of a risk than letting his arms bump into the sink a few times.

After assessing the situation, Armie decides that it would be best for him to sit on the toilet, just to give Timmy as much room as he needs. So that’s exactly what he does.

Timmy starts groaning heavily, shaking from more than shivers on the floor. The sounds leaving him are already inhumane, and he hasn’t even begun yet.

“It’s okay, Timmy,” Armie assures from his safe distance on the toilet. “You’re gonna be fine. Don’t fight it.”

These words are what seem to have Timmy let go completely. A long, loud groan quickly turns into a piercing shriek before the vile sight begins.

This time, the convulsions start in Timmy’s back immediately, then move to his neck. For a while, it’s just that. Jerks in his back, neck straining and slamming his head against the towel. But then the rest comes in a wave. His elbows and knees lock, the bathroom proving to provide barely enough room. Wrist and ankles curve inward at a callous angle, arms and legs flailing.

“Fuck, Timmy,” Armie whispers to himself as his heart beats in his chest.

Timmy’s face twitches rapidly, eyes rolling, nose scrunching, jaw relentlessly slamming shut on his tongue. It looks painful, and surely is, if Timmy’s yelps and cries are anything to go by.

“You’re okay,” Armie says, mainly to himself. “You’ll be alright.”

It’s times like these that Armie feels so incredibly alone. He’s basically talking to a wall when Timmy’s like this, but he needs to hear that reassurance out loud. He feels that if he speaks it, then it’ll be true. Because Timmy has to be okay. He has to.

The gurgling sounds start then, evidence of Timmy’s struggle to breath around the saliva that collects in his mouth. That noise paired with his barbaric movements makes him look like he’s drowning but without the water. It makes Armie feel helpless, seeing that he’s suffering but not being able to do anything more to relieve him.

“You’ve got this, baby,” Armie whispers as a particularly hard kick has Timmy’s poor knee smacking against the sink. That’ll leave a bruise in the morning.

Just as Armie is praying to god that this seizure won’t last long, considering he has to clock to track the length of it, Timmy starts to slow down. His legs and arms stop rather quickly, but his abs and neck spasm sporadically, slower to come down. He watches in suppressed horror as blood-infused spit seeps out of the corner of the younger’s mouth.

“Good job, Timmy. You did so well, honey,” Armie assures, still waiting for the jerks to stop until Timmy is left with no more than some mere trembles.

Once the untimely contractions stop completely and Timmy is doing nothing but groaning against the towel under his head, Armie deems it safe. He falls to his knees next to Timmy’s face again, pushing his hair back and trying to meet his eyes.

“You did so good, angel,” Armie praises. “That one wasn’t too bad, huh?” And yes, he knows. He knows it was bad, just like all of them are bad. But when the seizure doesn’t surpass two minutes and the boy somehow manages to not piss all over himself, Armie takes it as a win.

Timmy starts whining more and more, his eyes hardly open but still uselessly searching for Armie.

Armie leans in closer, caressing the side of Timmy’s face. “Timmy? Do you know who I am?”

Timmy’s eyebrows furrow, his eyes continuously focusing and unfocusing on Armie’s face. He groans again and tries to pull away, unsurprisingly trying to sit up a bit. Armie doesn’t allow this, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder to keep him against the floor.

“Nope,” Armie says. “You lay down for a second. Just relax.”

“Ah…” Timmy tries, one hand lazily reaching for Armie. It’s more of a smacking motion, considering Timmy has little to no motor function of his hand. “Arm…” he whines.

Armie feels a little relief knowing Timmy is coming back a bit. Enough to try and say his name at least. He tries to settle him with some soft words. “I know, baby. But you’ve gotta lay still for me, okay? Just relax for a second.”

Timmy doesn’t listen to this, likely doesn’t comprehend it at all. Because, seconds later, he’s getting a hand under himself and trying to sit up again. Armie stops him with a firmer touch this time, hand on the boy’s chest.

“No,” Armie says sternly. “Don’t get up, Timmy. I’m serious. Do you hear me?”

Timmy’s confused eyes look up at Armie then, and there’s no warning before his lips start to tremble and his eyes well up with tears. In seconds, he’s crying, leaning his face forward until he presses it into Armie’s bare thigh. There he grips his skin and hiccups, trying to control his sobs.

“Oh, Timmy,” Armie says, heart shattering for the boy. Because this isn’t fair. Because the last three times that they’ve tried to have sex, it’s been destroyed by Timmy’s mental or physical health, both of which he can’t control. Armie wonders where the mercy is for his lover. Does anyone see the torment he goes through?

Armie pulls Timmy up, leaning back against the wall and letting the younger press his face into his chest. There, Timmy lets go, sobbing uncontrollably into Armie. He’s so terribly confused, likely not even knowing why he’s crying. He’s so overwhelmed, his words falling dead on Armie’s ears. He can only make out his own name every once in a while.

“Shhh,” Armie soothes to calm the boy’s weeping.

“Mom,” Timmy somehow cries harder. “Wan’ mom.”

And Armie swears that he feels a physical pain in his heart. Timmy’s poor, disoriented mind doesn’t understand that he no longer lives in an apartment just under his mother. His brain knows that when he feels this way, he usually is one call away from the comfort of Nicole. But now, having freshly moved into Armie’s place, his mother’s comfort is a good half an hour away. And he can’t understand why.

“Shhh,” Armie hushes again. “I’m sorry, angel. Your mom isn’t here.”

Timmy cries a bit more into Armie before reaching up and wrapping his arms around the older’s neck, asking, “Why?”

“You’re at my place, remember?” Armie says, running a soothing hand up and down Timmy’s boney spine. He thinks of something then, trying to accomodate the boy if he truly wants his mother that much. “Do you want me to call her? Tell her to come over?”

Armie tries to suppress the hurt that his comfort isn’t enough for Timmy. Because, it’s seriously selfish. Of course Timmy wants his mother. He’s had her assistance for over twenty years in these kinds of situations. Armie hasn’t been in Timmy’s life long enough to have that same stability.

But then, it seems that Timmy wants to prove this all wrong. Because after a few more whimpers, sniffles, and hiccups, Timmy shakes his head. He grips Armie harder, moving his face up to the older’s neck.

“No,” Timmy mumbles, wobbly.

Armie frowns. “You sure?”

Timmy nods.

“Okay,” Armie agrees, feeling a sense of pride. He then realizes that they should probably move from the bathroom floor and into a more comfortable place. “Let’s get into the bedroom, okay? Get some clothes on and lay down for the night.”

Timmy sniffles one more time and then nods. “Okay.”

  
  


\--

  
  


When Armie wakes up next, it’s morning. Everything is the same except for the warm weight next to him. He cracks his eyes open to investigate and finds Timmy sitting eerily at the edge of his side of the bed, back facing Armie, staring out the window.

Armie sits up a bit. “Timmy?”

Timmy turns and looks at Armie over his shoulder. When Armie offers him a small smile as a good morning, the boy doesn’t return it. Instead, he crawls back into the bed and right up against Armie again, head resting on the older’s chest.

Armie frowns at the strange behavior. He brings a hand to Timmy’s soft curls as asks, “You okay?”

Timmy shakes his head.

“Why not?” Armie asks quietly, like it’s their secret. “What’s wrong?”

Timmy shrugs. He doesn’t speak for a few seconds, and Armie’s about to urge him again, but he beats him to it. “I just...that was really embarrassing, you know?”

“What was?” Armie questions.

Timmy huffs in frustration. He rubs his face almost angrily into Armie’s skin before continuing. “I don’t know. Just… I feel like a shitty boyfriend. Like I...can’t please you. You...I…” a curt sigh. “The last three times we’ve tried to ahve sex have ended in disaster and every time it’s because of me and I just...I don’t know I feel so guilty--”

“Whoa, hey,” Armie tries to butt in, but Timmy doesn’t listen.

“And it’s just like, I don’t know. The first time with the whole dissociating thing and then I couldn’t stay hard and then I have a fucking seizure. And then after I have a seizure I ask for my fucking mom like a child. It’s like...you can’t catch a break. I feel like I’m...letting you down. And I’m so sorry for how the last few days have been. I--”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Armie says, putting an end to Timy’s rambling. “Slow down. Who said you’re letting me down?”

“Well, I am, aren’t I?” Timmy asks, though he doesn’t look up at Armie. In fact, he hides even more.

Armie then takes Timmy’s chin in his hand and tilts the boy’s face up to look at him. He’s met with terribly sad eyes that are concerningly glossy, and a lip that’s on the verge of pouting.

“No,” Armie answers confidently. “You’re absolutely not. At all.”

“But--”

“Baby,” Armie shuts him up kindly. “I don’t think you understand. This relationship is about far more than sex. I wouldn’t care if we never had sex again, okay? I would still love you. I would still be with you. You understand?”

Timmy eyes shyly fall to Armie’s lips, but he nods.

“And all of those things that prevented us from having sex or finishing or anything was nothing you could control, okay?” Armie assures him.

Timmy looks like he doesn’t want to believe him, but he eventually does. “Yeah,” he finally murmurs.

“There’s no way to really prevent these things,” Armie defends further. “The only thing we can really do here is set boundaries, talk. We know now that trying things while you’re tired is not a good idea. And that’s perfectly fine. And now I know that sometimes your medication will make things harder for you. And that’s also fine. The only thing we would have to worry about is if this becomes too frequent, right?”

“Mhm,” Timmy instantly agrees.

Armie nods too, leaning down to press his lips to Timmy’s. “Don’t ever think that you’re not enough for me Timmy. You’re far more than enough. Far, far more.”

Timmy blushes and smiles at Armie’s exaggeration. But nonetheless, he returns the affection with gratitude of his own. “I love you so damn much.”

Armie reaches down and playfully pinches Timmy’s hip and chuckles. “Yeah, you better.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you guys so much for commenting and giving kudos!! you seriously don't know how much this inspires me to keep writing :)
> 
> i hope you guys still like this series. you can tell me if you're getting tired of it haha but i have a few more ideas in mind. let me know what you guys think <3
> 
> i'm sweettimotea on tumblr if you wanna chat/send asks!!


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